


On Gotham Rooftops

by Romiress



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Barebacking, Creampie, Exhibitionism, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Strength Kink, Top Clark Kent, Trans Bottom comfortable with Penetrative Sex, Trans Bruce Wayne, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Bruce wants to finish patrol. Clark has other plans.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 11
Kudos: 229
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020





	On Gotham Rooftops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harveyblanchet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harveyblanchet/gifts).



Bruce does _not_ like when other members of the League come to Gotham. Gotham is _his_ territory, and the tiniest sign of someone else shoving their nose in is enough to make his hackles raise.

Doubly so when that _tiny sign_ is a distant flash of blue and red.

Clark at least waits until Bruce has grapple-lined his way to the roof before he descends from the sky, making no (or at least very minimal) attempt to hide himself as he lands on the roof, a smile on his face.

"You don't look happy to see me."

"I'm patrolling, and I know you'll find some way to keep me from doing that," Bruce fires back.

"I'm not _stopping_ you. I've just gone ahead and done your work for you. There was a mugging a few streets over, which I dealt with, and a robbery which I foiled."

Bruce doesn't bother to hide his annoyance. _Foiled._ It sounds so... so _childish._

"You know I don't like being bothered while I'm on patrol, _Clark."_

"Which is why I do it."

Clark's got a smile that should probably be described as _dashing,_ only right then all Bruce can think to call it is _infuriating._ He already knows how the night's going to go, because it's hardly the first time it's happened. Clark will, through some method Bruce can barely comprehend, convince him to call it a night. He'll scoop Bruce up and carry him back to the manor, and then he'll fuck him so hard into the mattress that when Bruce limps to breakfast the following morning, Alfred will assume it's the result of a particularly vicious beating Bruce took the night before.

He'll be wrong, but Bruce isn't ever going to tell him that.

"So you finished my patrol for me, and now you're here to pick me up and take me home. Do you have to leave early, or something?" He tries not to sound irritated, even though he sort of _is._ There's really no reason Clark couldn't have just met him at the house, and having him here just puts them at risk for someone spotting them.

"Nope, I've got tomorrow off," Clark says. He looks _unusually_ perky, even for him, which means he's probably up to something.

Bruce narrows his eyes, turning to face Clark fully and folding his arms over his chest.

"What are you planning, Clark?"

"What happened to _no names in costume?"_

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if there was anyone near enough to hear. You only came down because you _knew_ we were alone."

"Guilty," Clark says with a laugh, and then he steps forward, closing the distance between them before winding an arm around Bruce's lower back, pulling him up against him. With their bodies held flush, Bruce swears he can hear Clark's heartbeat, strong and steady against him.

"Alright," Bruce mutters, very conscious of the fact that beneath his mask, he's probably flushed red already. "Let's go home."

Clark doesn't take him home. Instead, he bends down, catching Bruce's mouth in his own and pulling him into a kiss.

A very, very public kiss.

"Clark," Bruce hisses the moment he manages to pull his head together enough to pull away. "Someone could see."

"Let them see, then. Even if they realized what they were looking at, it wouldn't make a difference, would it? No one would believe them, even if they got a photo."

"Some of the people on the League would."

"Then let them. I'm not going to be upset if the League find out that we're involved."

Clark apparently has every intention of making good on that idea, because his hands dip lower, dragging their way down Bruce's sides to his hips. His hold is firm, just on the edge of being painful, and it makes Bruce shiver.

They shouldn't be doing anything in public. Not on a _rooftop_ where anyone could see. There's no reason Clark couldn't just carry him back to the manor, which means he's only doing it because he _wants_ it to happen right there.

In public.

On a roof.

"Are we really going to do this here?" Bruce asks, his voice hushed as Clark's hands dip lower, wrapping around to grab at Bruce's ass. He takes only a moment, and then uses his strength to lift Bruce up entirely.

Instinctively, Bruce wraps his legs around Clark's waist for support, only to realize a half second later that Clark probably intended for him to do that. Bruce huffs, getting a small laugh out of Clark, and then Clark's showering his face with small kisses, his one arm still wrapped around Bruce's back, holding him upright.

"You ass," Bruce hisses. "How are we even supposed to do this with our suits on?"

"Carefully," Clark insists. "Because if I tear your suit, you're going to tear me a new one."

It would be impossible with anyone else, but Clark is nothing if not capable as he manhandles Bruce, holding him with one hand as the other tries to hike his pants down. Bruce isn't exactly keen on having his suit removed on an open roof, so he nudges Clark's hand aside and gets to work removing part of his suit.

He _does,_ after all, need to pee sometimes.

"Who knew you had an access panel?" Clark asks, a laugh in his voice, but he doesn't wait for Bruce to fully finish before his fingers are dipping lower, dragging along the jut of Bruce's hip hard enough to be felt through what remains of the suit and over onto bare flesh. Bruce shudders, pulling himself closer to Clark, and makes himself take a deep breath to keep himself from getting _too_ riled up.

There's something about the fact that they're on a roof that's really throwing him off. The fact that anyone could see them. The fact that someone could be in trouble, requiring them to stop. It makes the whole thing feel hasty and rushed, but not in a way that Bruce finds unpleasant. When Clark presses a single finger in, he makes a noise of surprise that turns into a short little huff of a laugh.

"Already wet?"

"Shut up," Bruce hisses, his face going redder by the second. He wonders if he's blushing hard enough for Clark to see it appearing from under the cowl, or if it's still hidden.

Clark can be the softest, most gentle person Bruce knows, but he's also just as capable of being _firm._

Right then? He's being downright _rough._ He presses a second finger in, scissoring them insistently, and leaving minimal time for Bruce to adjust to the intrusion. Bruce shifts his weight slightly, and he can feel Clark's erection even through his suit. It's not one of _those_ suits that shows the whole damn thing, but pressed up against him, it's hard to miss.

"I'm going to make a mess of you," Clark says. "Right here, on the roof, and then you'll have to go home all filled with my cum." There's something enthrallingly matter of fact about it, like there's absolutely no question of what's going to happen.

Bruce certainly isn't going to argue.

He kisses Clark, matching him in intensity as Clark pumps his finger into Bruce, and then he turns his hand and his thumb is _right_ there, pressed up against Bruce's clit but not providing any real pressure. He makes Bruce work for it, grinding his body up against Clark, but it isn't enough.

"Get on with it," Bruce grunts as Clark tortures him with just two fingers, and Clark offers a small laugh before adding a third.

The stretch is good, but it's not enough. It's never going to be enough. Not when he knows what Clark's hiding under that perfect boy scout veneer. Not when he's seen how _big_ he is.

Not when he's had him inside him before, making Bruce feel so fucking _full_ he's not sure he's ever going to forget how it felt.

Bruce tries to take control of the situation, getting himself positioned, but Clark doesn't let him. Instead, he counters Bruce's attempts, manhandling Bruce around. It feels more secure to have his feet back on the roof, but that much more vulnerable having Clark looming over him.

That doubles when Clark folds him over at the waist.

"Clark—" His protest is lost when Clark presses two fingers right back into him, angling them just right to hit all the best angles. The way they're positioned, there's absolutely zero chance anyone could mistake them for doing anything other than what they're doing. His mouth feels dry, but that's the only part of him that is.

"You're sopping wet," Clark says. He sounds playful, like he's not feeling even an ounce of stress from what they're doing. He's acting like it's just an ordinary day, and some ordinary sex, and it _isn't._

It should be a nightmare.

Instead, Bruce feels wetter than he's been in a long time. He feels absolutely _drenched_ , and no matter how he wants to deny it, the fact of the matter is that it's the situation that's doing it for him.

The fact that anyone could see. The fact that Clark is so fucking _insatiably horny_ he can't just wait to be back at the manor.

"Enough with the fingers," Bruce snaps, over-eager and well aware that Clark must realize that. There's no question now that his blush must be visible to Clark. He's sure it's down the back of his neck, considering how... _intense_ it is.

"Pretty sure I should add a third," Clark says, and Bruce shifts his leg to step on Clark's instep. With anyone else, that'd be enough to break their hold and make them stumble, but all it does is make Clark laugh. "Got it, got it."

The moments when he's empty, Clark's fingers removed, seem to stretch on forever. When Bruce feels Clark's cock rubbing up against his entrance, he doesn't hesitate, shoving himself back against Clark.

Clark, the literal man of steel, immune to any damage Bruce could possibly deal out, yelps like he's genuinely _surprised_ by how desperate Bruce is. His hands catch Bruce's hips, stopping Bruce in his tracks before he can finish pushing all the way back.

"You're being greedy," Clark points out, and Bruce makes an attempt to finish what he was doing anyway, only to be stopped by Clark's tight grip.

Too tight. Tight enough to bruise, and Bruce _really_ wishes he didn't find the idea of Clark leaving bruises all over them so goddamn attractive.

"I was going to say I'd make you work for it, but you obviously would do that no question, so instead..."

Clark's fingers dig in, leaving bruises without question, and then he hauls Bruce against him, driving his cock all the way in. The force of it is enough to punch a grunt out of Bruce, who bites at his lip to keep himself from making any more noise.

 _They're on the roof_ he reminds himself.

Clark apparently doesn't get the memo, because when he pulls back—almost to the point where his cock pops out entirely—he slams forward loud enough that Bruce can't hear anything other than the slap of Clark's hips against his ass.

And all he can _feel_ is the way his cock fills him completely.

Bruce has things to say, words he'd like to vocalize, but he can't. Clark is relentless, fucking into Bruce with a kind of brutality that even Clark's opponents never get to see. Bruce isn't sure he's going to be able to _walk_ the next day, and the chances of him managing to get back to the manor without help are gone by the fourth bruising thrust.

He tries to do _something_ with his hands—grabbing Clark, maybe, only his brain isn't working enough to actually figure that much out—and Clark simply intercepts them, pulling Bruce's hands together behind his back to keep him from doing anything at all.

"Stay put," Clark says, and Bruce has no choice to comply. Even if physically he could _probably_ find a way out, mentally there's no chance. All his brain can think of is Clark. His cock. His body. The way he's groaning as he fucks into Bruce, breaking him to pieces where anyone could see.

The only warning Bruce gets that Clark is close is when Clark shifts his free hand off Bruce's hip, wrapping it around his body to find Bruce's clit.

Clark knows just what to do. He's a _master_ of getting Bruce off, his fingers bringing Bruce to the edge in record time.

And then he pushes Bruce right over by, of all things, biting at his neck. There's something about the way it _marks_ Bruce that drives him absolutely nuts, his legs nearly giving way beneath him. The only reason he doesn't actually fall to his knees is because Clark finishes at the same time, his arm keeping Bruce upright as he buries himself inside him.

Bruce can _feel_ him finishing. Clark's always run a bit warm, but his cum is... it's something else. Warm, not quite hot. And there's so fucking _much_ of it that when Clark finally pulls out, Bruce can feel it leaking out of him, making a mess of his suit.

"It's all over my suit, isn't it?" Bruce asks with a groan. How the hell is he going to hide that?

"It is," Clark says. He looks genuinely embarrassed by how much of a mess he's made of Bruce. "I also ruined your, ah, suit."

"...Beyond the cum?" Bruce looks down, and it's somehow worse than he thought, but still doesn't explain how flushed Clark looks as he tidies himself away.

"The neck."

Bruce pauses, reaches up, and realizes that Clark has _bitten through the armor around his neck._

"That love bite was _not_ worth what it's going to cost to fix that."

"I'll pay—"

"You will not," Bruce interrupts, reaching up to try and minimize how obvious the damage is with one hand as he attempts to get his suit back in one piece. It's a mess. A sticky mess. No amount of cleaning up on the roof is going to do a thing. "You _will_ fly me back to the manor, and you _will_ avoid everyone else until I'm cleaned up. If anyone in the family sees me like this, I will never hear the end of it."

Clark kisses him, and Bruce pauses for a moment before kissing him back. It doesn't last long, just a brief one before Clark scoops him up for the flight, but it's a nice reminder anyway.

"I love you," Bruce says, and Clark leans down for another quick kiss before lifting off the roof.

"I love you too."


End file.
